


Right Here

by dancer_of_the_hellfire_rumba



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, PTSD, highly descriptive panic attack, hugs make everything better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 14:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancer_of_the_hellfire_rumba/pseuds/dancer_of_the_hellfire_rumba
Summary: “This doesn’t have to be the only lesson, sweetheart. I can see you working your head over there. Don’t, you’re doing great.” He threw an encouraging smile my way before going back to what he was saying.I felt small. Wrapped in my oversized hoodie and baggy sweats, I wanted to cocoon myself in blankets and fall in a hole where I knew no one would find me. I felt out of my element, but not necessarily uncomfortable. Just… cold. I felt cold, like I wanted Dean to hug me instead of teaching me all of this.





	Right Here

**Author's Note:**

> HEED THE WARNINGS. This is 1.6k words of a highly descriptive panic attack, please do not read if you are easily triggered. Dean, in this fic, certainly does not cure the reader's situation, I'm not implying anything of the sort. PTSD is a serious mental illness. He simply provided comfort. 
> 
> I'm also absolutely not romanticizing mental illness. It's horrible to live with any sort of mental illness and I want to be clear. This particular fic was my outlet at a bad time in my life.

Why had he insisted, dammit? Why did I cave? I knew I’d fail at this too.

The room’s walls were padded and there was a boxing bag hanging a bit to the side, but otherwise the room we called the gym was nothing but vacant.

Dean entered, clad in sweats, a tight fighting black tee and socks and wearing a neutral expression on his face. He walked in the room, looking relaxed and at ease, familiar with the space he was in. His eyes caught me waiting for him on the floor, picking at my ripped sleeve when my eyes met his. He walked over, offering a hand to help me up.

“Alright, basics first,” he enthused. “Make a fist for me.”

He’d insisted on training. For weeks, after I moved in the bunker, he begged to follow him to the ‘gym’ and give him three hours-  _just three hours, I promise-_ to go over at  _least_  the basics.

Today, I caved.

I made a fist.

“Okay, good, just-” he held my wrist gently with two fingers and pushed my thumb slightly under my fingers. “Tuck that little guy in; otherwise you might break a finger.” He brushed a touch over the finger as if to firm it in place. I nodded, fighting the urge to squirm on my spot, under his gaze.

“Now,” he let go of my wrist and repositioned himself, widening his stance, almost reaching my height. He held up a flat palm. “Show me how you’d punch me.” There was nothing in me that wanted to hit him. I wasn’t familiar with violence and he knew it. So, I did what he told me to, but I did it softly, knuckles going first against the skin of his hand. I met his gaze.

A broad smile made its way on his face. “Almost. You wanna make contact with the flat tops of your fingers, not so much on your knuckles, okay? C’mon, try again.” I did, this time the way he told me.

“Like that?” Dean’s smile widened.

“Yep. That’s it.” He didn’t pressure me to go harder, for which I was grateful. For such a rough guy teaching me how to beat people up, he was infinitely gentle.

We moved on to the stance, then the moves, from attack to defense, Dean always gentle and reassuring, handling me with delicacy like a brand new phone or an antique, porcelain vase.  I tried my best but I just… wasn’t as graceful. I was like Bambi and Dean was like… like a life full of experience, a full grown deer maybe?

“Hey, you’re getting it,” he reassured. “This doesn’t have to be the only lesson, sweetheart. I can see you working your head over there. Don’t, you’re doing great.” He threw an encouraging smile my way before going back to what he was saying.

I felt small. Wrapped in my oversized hoodie and baggy sweats, I wanted to cocoon myself in blankets and fall in a hole where I knew no one would find me. I felt out of my element, but not necessarily uncomfortable. Just… cold. I felt cold, like I wanted Dean to hug me instead of teaching me all of this.

My mind began running, eyes darting around the room. Images of my first encounter with the monster world, of the sudden violence I was subjected to, of the grunts and the- the noise, the sickening  _crunch_  of skin against bone. My heartbeat became more apparent to my ears; I felt it against my ribs, in my throat. I took a deep breath, but the air just didn’t seem enough. My mind ran, throat closing.

I need, I need air.

The urge to claw at my throat and chest to open them, to make the breaths I was taking enough, was strong.  _You’re fine, you’re okay, Dean’s here, Dean’s here._

My limbs were numb, mind hazy, and I was only barely following his instructions, trying to focus on his voice and not the fuzziness in my ears that felt like I buried my head in a pile of cotton, not the fact that my eyes felt a touch heavier than normal.

_Don’t be so sensitive._

Fuck no, stop, stop,  _stop._

“You okay?” Dean asked and I inhaled deeply and shook my head. “Hey.” He broke his stance and put a hand on my shoulder. “C’mon kid.” He tugged me closer to him. “It’s alright.” I fell into his arms, trying to stop my heartbeat from echoing in my ears and the continuous piercing sensation in the back of my throat that felt like I was about to vomit.

Dean wrapped one arm around my shoulders, his other hand freeing my hair from my ponytail. He entangled his fingers with the hair in the back of my neck and combed through it gently. I shut my eyes tightly and opened them again because the images- they were too much,  _this_  was too much. I could see them coming for me, rapid footfalls, a thunderstorm of voices and inhuman growls and- they were  _there, they were-_

“You’re okay, you’re safe, I’m right here,” his voice rumbled against my chest and I tried focusing on that. Dean kept talking to me, but I didn’t hear what he was saying.

I just inhaled, letting his scent reside on the bottom of my lungs, just focused on the way his hands felt in my hair, the way his warmth felt against me and settled in my bones. No cold, no rain, no dirt or rocks or tree branches scratching the skin of my arms, just Dean. Safe, warm, soft, careful, loving Dean and his warm embrace.

I was strung out like a puppet, being pulled in every which direction by the terror I sought in the world.

I didn’t realize when Dean rested his chin atop my head and started humming, but when my heartbeat finally quieted, when my lungs finally started taking in enough air, his strong vibrato echoed in my ear. My shoulders relaxed, fists, that had unbeknownst to me gripped the back of his shirt, letting go. I rested my forehead right over his peck, letting out a long breath.

“That’s right, sweetheart.” His hand rubbed my back, the other’s fingers resting on the nape of my neck protectively. I let out a long shaky breath.

It felt- it felt  _nice_. And it was weird ‘cause Dean was strong and powerful, he’d learned to deal with this world, with violence and monsters and dark forests with red eyes peeking through the bushes, and I was a weak little lamb, waiting to be slaughtered by my own inner demons. I was defenseless. He… wasn’t. And I didn’t want to burden him with my protection, didn’t want to-

“You think a lot, hey?” he said, tone dipped in affection and  _worry_. In that moment, in the care in his voice, in his grounding hands and careful touch, I understood I didn’t want to feel alone anymore- because I did. I felt isolated. Alone against a whole world and myself.

I was buried in his arms and it was- I didn’t know. There were a lot of feelings stirring in my gut.

Soon, it was looser, much looser for both of us. Still surprising and overwhelming. Second by ticking second, a circle of his thumb just under my hairline at a time, I came back to myself. His warmth stilled the chaos in me and it was crazy, knowing I didn’t know him for any more than a few months.

I should pull away. It was time, I was in his arms for longer than was probably normal and he was most likely awkward but I didn’t  _want_ to. Because it was safe and warm and  _nice_. I didn’t want to feel far from the warmth of his skin again.

But I respected him and appreciated him and I didn’t want to push any more boundaries than I already had.

I had to physically tear my head away from his torso, _force_ myself to pull away. His intense gaze slipped and locked in my own. I sighed; I had enough breath in me to do so, now.

“Thank you,” I almost whispered, finally finding the right words. Dean’s eyes didn’t leave me.

“ ’course, kid.” He was watching me, knowing I had more to say, waiting patiently for me to get myself in order, just like he did seconds before.

“I…” I licked my lips. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Did I look uncomfortable?” Oh God, did he? I ran the past however-much-time-it-was in my head in fleeting images, like a fast forwarding film and it was all self-depreciating thoughts and a mental haze with glimpses of his words and touch so n-no, no, I didn’t think so.

“I- n-no,” I concluded, eyebrow furrowing.

“Good, because I wasn’t.” I nodded and swallowed. “Look, kid,” He licked his lips, eyes jumping around me for a second or two, before they settled on mine. “I know you’re new to this kind of crap…”

“Crap it is indeed,” I huffed out a mirthless laugh, heartbeat still decreasing speed. Dean nodded.

“So just- my door is always open.” I could see the gears turning in his head, struggling to string words meaningful enough to convey his thoughts, just as hard as I was.

“Thank you,” I breathed, managing a small smile. “That goes both ways, i-if you’re the one that needs a hug next time.” Dean nodded and hesitated before taking a step closer, cupping my jaw briefly and pressing his curved lips to my temple tentatively. By instinct, my hand went to his forearm, holding him carefully there.

“You’re gonna be alright, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really want to read ya'll's impressions. Have you felt anything similar, have you experienced panic attacks in the past? Do you think I did it any justice? Take a break after this, drink some water, 'cos I'd like to think it's pretty intense. Do tell me what's on your mind though :)


End file.
